You sat there, your hands buried in the folds of your coat, watching the slow drift of snowflakes. It was the only thing familiar anymore.

Then it came. A tightening in your chest, cold and sudden, like a hand closing around your ribs. The world tilted, the snow blurring at the edges of your vision.

You gripped the bench, knuckles white, but the air wouldn't come. It was too heavy, too thin, too far away.

Exhaustion washed over you, heavy and warm. You leaned into her, your temple resting against her shoulder, and she let you. Her hand came up, stroking your hair with a tenderness that made your chest ache.